With the death of Walter
may begin the last chapter of a life of sorrows bravely borne. The diary, after
Walter’s death, contains nothing of note. On April 14, we
find, “Bought a coral for Mary
Monica,” his little grandchild, who received all that tender love of
babies which had marked Lockhart from his boyhood.
Mr. Hope now added to his own name that of Scott,
his wife being the
MARY MONICA | 365 |
“Dear Charlotte,—I address you by your new name, earnestly hoping it may be attended henceforth with more of prosperity than has been the case for a long while, and that it may be transmitted in your lineage. Every one speaks most rapturously of Mary Monica. Uncle Bob says—‘a splendid baby,’ and so on. I have seen nobody lately at all except your husband and William, who dined here yesterday, and both appeared in good health and appetite and spirits, and were, as usual, most agreeable company, in the evening both sleeping like tops from 8 to 10.30, when, with some difficulty, having read out my book and the candles being nearly done, I contrived to expel them. If your new house be like No. 36 (Mrs. Lane Fox’s), it is a very nice one; and I trust you will cultivate her society for the good of your soul.
“You see that William Alexander is dead. Boyd went over to Ballochmyle some days before, but never saw William in life, being forced to go to bed as soon as he got there. He had got home before the funeral, which Claud went down on Monday to superintend.”
On April 30, Lockhart notes that
he dined at Mr. Hope Scott’s. “Sat
between Lytton-Bulwer and
366 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“Brodie and Fergusson agree that I must not attempt next Quarterly Review.”
He therefore went to Brighton with his son-in-law. On July 16 he notes—
“I suppose my last number of the Quarterly Review.”
His last article, and he only wrote part of it, was on Cockburn’s “Life of Jeffrey,” in 1852.1 Henceforth that busy pen, which had produced so many volumes of “copy,” was to be idle, save for letter-writing. In one note he cites a jest of Mr. Hope Scott’s about certain friends of theirs, “an excellent family, if they could be taken homeopathically.”
From Milman he did not conceal his condition. The kindness and justice of Haydon’s remarks on himself in the Memoirs long ago cited, but only published in 1853, cannot but have given him pleasure, which may be detected in this note:—
“My dear Dean,—I am very grateful to Mrs. Milman and you, and hope to profit, ere I go abroad,
1 No. clxxxi. |
FUNCTUS OFFICIO | 367 |
“You will be entertained, I think, and interested with the Haydon Memoirs, which Tom Taylor has edited neatly, and, I believe, in a perfectly candid spirit.—Yours very truly,
On August 6 he notes, “Gave up Abbotsford MSS. to Hope and Cha as
functus officio.” When in
Scotland he “called on Wilson, but did not
see him.” Mrs. Gordon has described
the last meeting of these old allies. The Professor, too, was descending into the Valley of
the Shadow. Through thirty-seven years their affection, though not untried, had lasted
unbroken. It has been necessary, inevitable, here to illustrate aspects of
Wilson’s character which have been hitherto overlooked. He
has been represented as a figure of light, accompanied by the dark shadow of Lockhart.
368 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
Lockhart was advised, too late, to seek southern air—too late he sought for rest. On September 27 he was at Abbotsford, on October 4 he left England. He notes that on October 7 he saw Thackeray in the Louvre—Thackeray with years of work and fame still before him. The two men do not seem ever to have been intimate, though both were “Fraserians,” nor do I remember to have often noticed Thackeray’s name as a guest at any table where Lockhart was dining. In the separate edition of “Theodore Hook,” Lockhart adds to some comments on novels made ten years earlier—“This was written long before Mr. Thackeray made a full revelation of his talents in ‘Vanity Fair.’” That immortal work was welcomed, as it should be, by Miss Rigby, in the too celebrated review which also dealt with “Jane Eyre.”
Lockhart reached Civita Vecchia on October 15. It is characteristic of his mental activity that his entry for October 18 is—“Dante with Dr. Lucentini.”
Mr. Gleig, in his Quarterly article, quotes
Dr. Lucentini’s appreciation of the most eager and acute of
his pupils. They would argue together;
ITALY | 369 |
He was often in the society of Mrs. Sartoris, of whom he speaks with strong admiration. The worst of it was that, being able “to eat but little meat,” he was constantly dining out, and the strain on a wrecked constitution was needlessly great. Lockhart throughout life had shared in the one vice of General Gordon—he smoked too much. Mr. Cadell had remonstrated with him about his fondness for the weed long ago, and Sir Walter had hinted at it. We do not learn whether or not he had limited the number of his cigars, as is probable. The loneliness of an invalid in Rome, among crowds of busy people of pleasure, or students of archæology, doubtless drove him into society, which must have exhausted his nervous energies, now sunk very low. He never exaggerates his sufferings in his letters home; these require little of comment, thus:—
“My dear Charlotte,—We
arrived here in
370 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“The Admiral” (he was staying with Mr. Robert Hay in Rome) “has a neat flat
of some five or six rooms, some of them looking over a large extent of Rome,
including St. Peter’s and many more fine things. I have a very tolerable
room to the rear, and could not have been lodged better, I am sure, in this
town. No woman servant at all. A man comes in to cook twice per day, all the
rest done by the lad and my courier. Hay very kind indeed.
As yet few or no fine folks here. Fanny
Kemble and Mrs. Sartoris
are near us, and dined with us one day, and Hay has drunk
tea twice with them. In a short time there will be the Duke of Northumberland, Lord
Northampton, and a world of grandees. At church on Sunday,
behold Baron and Lady Parker, Lady C.
Denison, Mr. D., and Dr. Locock, all bound for England from Naples.
ROME | 371 |
“I wish you would write to Miss Joanna or Mrs. Ellis, and tell my report about myself; also to Cousin Kate, for this is the only epistle I venture on.—With love to you all,
“Dear Charlotte,—I
had yesterday yours of October 21, which told me about a ball, &c. I have
nothing so brilliant, I think, to communicate. Yes, on Sunday was the
beatification of one Bobola, I think, a Polish Jesuit,
however, murdered by the Russians one hundred years ago, and I then saw,
372 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
THE POPE | 373 |
“I am certainly, since I wrote last, somewhat bettered as respects appetite; with eggs and fish I breakfast well, and with soup and fish dine tolerably. Meat not yet within my reach exactly, though once I did contrive to deal with part of a cold partridge. The weather is said to have been unfavourable; it is still as hot as English August, but with occasional rains, or rather floods.
“I will, for sake of Mary Monica, go to St. Monica’s tomb some day soon.
His diary gives a worse account of his health than do his letters.
“My dear Charlotte,—Since I had your last comfortable letter I
indited a reply to one of Kate’s, and thought she
would probably send it on, but it now seems long since I heard from or about
you, and I must not be lazy any longer. Give me good news of yourself, your
man, and Mary Monica. I am able
374 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“Our life is gay—we dine out four or five times
a week—once always with Duke of
Northumberland—
ROME | 375 |
376 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
His health had made but a brief rally, as this letter confesses:—
“Dear Charlotte,—I was well pleased with all the news of your last, and quite approve especially the kitchen plan, for my recollection of many summer evenings poisoned by smells is lively enough. I have had rather a bad week, and am not yet able to leave my own room; but I daresay, in a day or two, I shall be as well as I have ever managed to feel of late. For a new variety I have been, indeed am, suffering under earache—whence a constant misery, steaming, &c., &c. Never experienced this before. About my last outing was to hear Manning preach an Epiphany sermon in the S. Andrea della Valle, and, as I had not heard him before, I was, of course, greatly struck and pleased with his voice and action—the latter I think the most graceful I ever saw in a pulpit performer. He called since, and made himself very agreeable, and is to show me his college, &c., one afternoon.
“The Admiral is
very happy, as the Dorias, Borgheses, and some other princely ones, have been
inviting him to dine. Borghese, he reports, feels confident that the Czar will
be in London within three years. Well, if so, I calculate Murchison will not cut his old friend, but, on
the contrary, patronise us all, to comfort us what he can under our woe about
the downfall of the Royal
ROME | 377 |
“Yesterday, a letter from Holt at Paris; mentions some serious money losses, and that he had been over to Versailles, to see a grave which some one unknown had surrounded with violets. If Hope gets to town, I do trust he will show all kindness to that little man, and consult with him
1 The Crimean trouble is referred to. |
378 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“I have also taken up Hebrew with an eye to Arabic,
that is, in case I should spend a season in the East, after all, before
settling down at Hampstead or Watford. I find I can easily recover the Hebrew I
had lost—not very much I own—but better than nothing, and I have
gone so far at least as to get an Arabic grammar from the most authentic
quarter here, through a Mr. Howard, late
RETURN | 379 |
The spirit, courage, gaiety, and energy of Lockhart never shone more brightly than in these days of illness and exile.
“My dear Charlotte,—I was much gratified with your last and in all its parts, but in return for so many bits of good news I have really nothing to say, except that I have settled to take a steamboat at Civita Vecchia on the 29th of this month, and it promises to reach Marseilles in twenty-seven hours. I need not hurry myself as to the French part of my journey, and will probably bestow a day or two on objects of interest as yet unvisited by me; but I shall soon (D.V.) get to Paris (Hôtel Windsor, Rue de Rivoli), and I hope to find H. Ellis and wife there or thereabouts; having spent a few days with whom, I may expect to cross to Old England and occupy once more, though for the last time and not for long, my customary quarters in Sussex Place.
“I have found that several acquaintances go by the
boat I mention; particularly William
Osborne and his wife, who will to the best of their power help
me. She was Caroline Montagu of Rokeby,
an old
380 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“When tolerably well I have made various little expeditions to see celebrated places within a day’s drive, and mostly with the two Kemble ladies, and an artist or two of their suite. Next Saturday the like is to happen if the sun shines, and before I quit Civita Vecchia I shall, I believe, contrive to spend three or four days in that vicinity, where Etruscan antiquities (Cornato, Tarquinii, &c.) abound. But I am at best very uncertain in any arrangements of this nature, for I am subject to seizures that lay me quite on my back for two or three days. I am to-day better than I have usually been for some weeks: but the constant recurrence of most wearisome symptoms is enough to break one’s spirit, even if one had any left to be broken. I am entirely satisfied that travel is insanity for a sick creature; and once established again in a home, however humble, I shall not be likely to quit it on any such speculation.
“Hope and you will be sorry to hear that R. Monteith and all his family have been laid
up with ‘Roman fever,’ so called, ending in what we call typhus.
One little girl died on Saturday, and I greatly fear my next intelligence may
be the death of another of them, with that of poor R.
Monteith himself. William
Lockhart (the monk), known to you, sees them hourly, and lets me
know daily.
WILLIAM LOCKHART | 381 |
“You both, I think, were acquainted with the Bishop of Salisbury. I am sorry for his death. My old master, Jenkyns, too, has dropt. I wonder who will be the new Bishop; but I do not look for Milman. More likely Whewell; Hallam is, I hear, mending decidedly.
“The day I touch a bit of well-dressed cod or salmon, with a slice of roast beef or mutton, and glass of sound ale or port, I fancy I shall feel greatly comforted. There is nothing wholesome or refreshing to be had in this infernal place for love or money. Wherefore, may perdition attend the population, from Pope Pio to the beggar on the stairs.
“My chief companion and next-door neighbour (in the
house) is old Lord Stanhope—occupied
mostly with the spirit-rapping—I fancy a prime victim of the mediums. He
says there is much preaching here on the subject, the tone being that the facts
are all correct, but the whole the work
382 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
David Dunglas Home was not yet in Rome at this time; some inferior medium was at work. Lockhart’s dislike of Italian cookery and of the detestable wines of Italy comes out in a letter to Milman:—
“My dear Milman,—I am ashamed of not having sooner acknowledged a very kind and interesting epistle from the Deanery; but as I have been quite idle, you will readily understand and excuse. My health has had many ups and downs; when tolerably well I have tried to do something (occidentally and orientally), but in general I have been too unwell for such matters. At this hour I am better by much than usual, and hope to keep so during my homeward travels. I do not, on the whole, think I have been improved by foreign drugs, and sigh for home comforts—oh, how deeply!
“I had only yesterday a
complete leave of absence as to Duchy of Lancaster, but this does not alter my
programme, as I must, whatever order I may take about future modes of
existence, go to Sussex Place, for a little while at all events, to settle
about surrender of house there at Michaelmas, &c. I have no notion where I
shall plant me, or how
MANNING | 383 |
384 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“My tender homages wait on your lady. I quite enter into her and your distress on the loss of Lady Milman, for whom, though meeting her but rarely, I had always a very particular liking as well as respect. Truly grieved I am for Sir William, and ever yours affectionately,
“Beds black with bugs,
Monks fat as slugs,
Beggars groaning,
Thieves atoning,
Leering models, lounging artists,
Strutting, strumming Bonapartists;
Mutton young, and stinking mullet,
Wine sharp enough for Rossi’s gullet.
Fancying these, make speed to Rome,
Curse beef and beer, law, truth, and home;
For me, I’d jump at once to ——,
Before returning.
“J. G. L.”
|
These are, perhaps, Lockhart’s last verses.
Still from Rome he writes to Mr. Hope Scott about his post in the Duchy of Lancaster:—
“Dear Hope,—I think
it very probable that you have had some communication, since you reached town,
with Mr. Strutt, and will therefore hear,
without surprise, what he now communicates to me, viz., that my resignation as
auditor of the Duchy of Lancaster will be acceptable with reference to certain
RETURN | 385 |
“This will in no inconsiderable degree lighten my difficulties as to arranging for the future course of my domesticities, and I trust William and you will bestow some reflection on it with that view. I do not wish such matters to be talked of generally, but I will thank you to mention the occurrence confidentially to Holt, Fergusson, and Christie, also to Mr. Murray, when you are next passing Albemarle Street. I mean to take steamer on the 29th at Civita Vecchia, and, D.V., to reach London some ten days later.
“You will be happy to learn that Monteith is thought to have decidedly got the turn. He has not yet heard of the child’s death. Manning has just been here with this news, and is to dine with me solo at 1.30 on Wednesday, which will be a great treat to me. I asked him to invite Vaughan or W. Lockhart, both of whom I am as fond of as he is, but he preferred a two-handed talk for once.—Yours affectionately,
Lockhart reached Sussex Place again, and those comforts which Rome could not yield. He writes:—
“Dear Charlotte,—I
am writing in my old
386 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“I have not yet seen Holt, but I hope to do so this evening, and anticipate, with his help and Woolford’s, escaping from this house before that month expires. I am to be myself on trial as respects climate, &c., and believe my wisest plan will be to deposit my books, &c., at the Pantechnicon (all but a few boxes full), and hire for the nonce a lodging not far from my clubs; in which case Hannah might sigh a long farewell.
“I have a medal of Pius IX. for M. M., with sundry rosaries and so on, at your commands.
“Two more very old allies of mine are just buried, I see—John Wilson and the Dean of Wells (Jenkyns of Balliol).
“I am to dine to-day with Murchison, who looks doubly august with his
increase of fortune, which
“SHORN” | 387 |
Shorn, indeed, Lockhart was. He had never been rich; he had no valuable copyrights; the years of a large income had ended with the first flush of Murray’s Family Library; his expenses in consequence of Walter’s faults had been great. Now he had to resign the Quarterly Review, and this is the time when Miss Martineau speaks of him as “opulent,” and owner of a lucrative landed estate!
“Dearest Charlotte,—I shall be very happy to dine with you on the appointed day, when I hope to see M. M.1 in great beauty and attraction, and her papa and mamma strong and well. I have seen Lady Hope, and was delighted with her vigorous looks—also Lady F. H., who seems as jolly as ever, all woes notwithstanding. I have nothing to say of myself but that I don’t feel as if I were at all the worse for being here—if anything, the contrary, and take what share I can in the great quest of a shelter; but I daresay your arrival will find that still on foot. It seems to be extremely hard to get at anything decent on decent terms anywhere, and actually impossible in the civilised regions of the town. Christie is not yet seen by me—he is at Beaumanoir. Lady
1 M. M. is Mary Monica, his grandchild. |
388 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“I am not surprised, but sorry, to hear whispers of a separation between —— —— and her virtuoso, whose neglects have at last exhausted her patience; but I shall have particulars whenever I meet the Eastlakes, and till then mum.”
The following brief note is his last to his old friend Dean Milman:—
“Dear Dean,—I have now read your book all through, and am very sorry to find myself at finis, but hope to see more vols, speedily. This is a real good history, most learned, instructive, and abundant in sense and taste. I beg pardon for praising it—excuse the presumptuous habits of an old editor.
“I think A.
Stanley’s article a very able and interesting one—in
fact, the best thing he has as yet
LAST VISIT TO SCOTLAND | 389 |
In August, Lockhart retreated to his brother’s hospitable house at Milton Lockhart. His health was not mending; a chilliness in the hands and feet, and great weakness, were the most notable symptoms. “Bob,” in the following letter, is his brother Robert, then on the point of being married.
It is pleasant to think that his latest summer, in his own country, was happy in warmth, a grateful breeze, and the “sheathed” sun, on which he quotes Wordsworth. He, like Scott, made a final visit to Douglas and its stern monuments; and he remembered, we may be sure, that day of dark and lowering heat, when Sir Walter, moved beyond himself, quoted—
“My wound is deep, I fain would sleep.” |
Deep was Lockhart’s wound, beyond all healing, and rest was near. How touchingly his words in the following letter on youth and health, and on people’s duty to be “what it is easy to preach,” recall Scott’s “Be a good man, my dear!” But he addressed, and he knew it, one to whom it was easy to be good:—
“Dear Charlotte,—Kate says I should
write, but I really have nothing to say except what she is
390 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“The weather is delicious—warm, very warm, but a gentle breeze keeping the leaves in motion all about, and the sun sheathed, as Wordsworth hath it, with a soft grey layer of cloud. To-day I am tempted to try the pony again, though, besides other griefs, I can get no companion—William just once, and yet God only knows what he does all day before sleeping hours.
“I am glad to fancy you all enjoying yourselves (I include Lady D. and sweet M. M.), in this heavenly summer season—such a rarity beneath our sky. If people knew beforehand what it is to lose health, and all that can’t survive health, they would in youth be what it is easy to preach—do you try. I fancy it costs none of you very much effort either to be good or happy.—Yours affectionately,
DYING | 391 |
“Dear Charlotte,—I am probably doing what William ought to have done—anyhow, your grouse arrived this morning, and will be very useful. I have lived on grouse-soup ever since I came to Milton, with the addition of some curds and cream, lots of butter-milk, and now, behold, a kebbock procured from a renowned dairy hard by for my special benefit! I am, in some minor respects, rather better, and persist therefore in riding almost daily for two or three hours, but the feebleness in the limbs, I fear, progresses still. It is with considerable difficulty I get my legs over the saddle, and I never even attempt more than a walk.
“I suppose I must soon think of moving southwards, and that will include a little visit to you, unless you shall have shown yourselves here at any rate; but I don’t mean that I don’t wish and intend to be with you whether you have been here or not. If I feel tolerably up to any visiting, I will, if I can, go to Bob’s wedding,1 but I doubt if I shall be able, and suspect the absence of so ghastly a visage and form may be much more to the hilarifying of Kate (who alone will remember it) than the presence of your most obedient.
“We have the most heavenly weather. Kate and I went with William yesterday to Douglas to show her the monuments, and that he might call
1 The wedding of his brother, Mr. Robert Lockhart. |
392 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“Lord Peter is to be here on Thursday; going on Saturday to the Belhavens, who have just returned from the Rhine. My respects attend all the fair, not excepting M. M.
Lockhart’s final visit to Abbotsford has sometimes been represented as the sudden freak of a stricken man to die at home. The foregoing and following letters prove that he had always contemplated and promised a visit to his daughter. Mr. Ornsby, in his “Life of James Hope Scott,”1 writes thus: “Mr. and Mrs. Hope Scott went to see him at Milton Lockhart, and entreated him to come to Abbotsford. He at first decidedly refused, and his will was a strong one; but some time after, when the house was full of Catholic guests, he suddenly announced that he wished to go immediately to Abbotsford.”
This makes a rather ungracious impression. Lockhart’s letters, of course, remove it; he always meant to go to see his daughter and “M. M.”
This is his last letter to his daughter. He journeyed to Abbotsford, and died among those dearest to him:—
“Dear Charlotte,—I am certainly somewhat
1 Vol. ii. p. 147. |
ABBOTSFORD | 393 |
The date of Lockhart’s arrival at Abbotsford is unrecorded.
An old servant of Mrs. Maxwell Scott’s family, Mrs. Doyle, gives this touching description of Lockhart’s fondness for his little grandchild, which partly deals with his dying days at Abbotsford.
“She used to be quite
frightened at him, as a
394 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
Mr. Ornsby, in his “Life of James Hope Scott,”1 says: “He arrived there hardly able to get out of his carriage, and it was at once perceived that he was a dying man. He desired to drive about and take leave of various places.”
We can imagine his last visits to Chiefswood, Huntly Burn, the Rhymer’s Glen, Torwoodlee, Gledswood, perhaps “the dowie dens of Yarrow,”—“displaying, however, a sort of stoical fortitude,
1 Vol. ii. p. 147. |
DEATH | 395 |
He was buried, by his desire, in Dryburgh Abbey, “at the feet of Sir Walter Scott,” within hearing of the Tweed. Mrs. Robert Lockhart, at that time a bride, makes the following extracts from letters of her husband, who was in attendance on the dying man:—
“I was in the dining-room during the night, which is next the
sick-room. It is the room in which old Sir Walter
died. My thoughts during
396 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“I arrived early this morning, but, alas! too late for the momentary gratification of being with him at the last. As Dr. Clarkson had assured us, his end was but a soft sleep—no pain, no struggle. The change is not great from what he appeared lately, and his expression is mild. My poor mother was brought before me so perfectly. In death he resembles her far more than he did in life.”
The biographer of Father William
Lockhart informs me that the Father used to read to Lockhart, in his last days, passages from “The Garden of the Soul.” Mr.
Gleig says, touching his religious creed, that a clergyman, an Oxford friend
(probably himself), used to walk with Lockhart on Sunday afternoons in
Regent’s Park. “With whatever topic their colloquy began, it invariably fell
off, so to speak, of its own accord into discussions upon the character and teaching of
the Saviour; upon the influence exercised by both over the opinions and habits of
mankind; upon the light thrown by them on man’s future state and present destiny.
. . . Lockhart was never so charming as in these discussions. It
was evident that the subject filled his whole mind, for the views which he enunciated
were
RELIGION | 397 |
Of religion, in his extant letters, Lockhart never speaks, save in some brief ejaculation, or in acknowledging and humbly bowing to that Will which so often, and so severely, tried his own. Lockhart, in his will, left little memorials to his surviving friends, and a sum of one hundred pounds to Mr. Christie, “for a purpose which he knows”—veteris haud immemor amicitiæ.
Mr. Froude, in his “Thomas Carlyle,”1 writes of “a poem sent to him (in part) by a friend whom he rarely saw, who is seldom mentioned in connection with his history, yet who then and always was exceptionally dear to him. The lines themselves were often on his lips to the end of his own life, and will not be easily forgotten by any one who reads them.”
These lines came to him who now writes, with Lockhart’s letter to Carlyle, in an hour of sorrow, and will not be forgotten while memory endures. They are written in full on a page pasted into one of Lockhart’s diary books, and are dated June 21, 1841. They had been seen by Mrs. Norton, who, in one of her letters to him—letters singularly vivid, but clouded by many torturing anxieties—says
1 Vol. i. p. 249. |
398 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
“When youthful faith has fled,
Of loving take thy leave;
Be constant to the dead,
The dead cannot deceive.
|
Sweet, modest flowers of spring,
How fleet your balmy day!
And man’s brief year can bring
No secondary May.
|
No earthly burst again
Of gladness out of gloom;
Fond hope and vision vain,
Ungrateful to the tomb!
|
But ’tis an old belief,
That on some solemn shore,
Beyond the sphere of grief,
Dear friends will meet once more.
|
Beyond the sphere of time,
And sin, and fate’s control,
Serene in changeless prime
Of body and of soul.
|
That creed I fain would keep,
That hope I’ll not forego;
Eternal be the sleep,
Unless to waken so.”
|
So may he have wakened—out of weakness made strong, out of weariness refreshed—to meet the eyes of her whom he never ceased to love and long for, and of that great soul beside whose mortal ashes his own body lies at rest.
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